Load Line

Plimsoll. Designed to limit loads and ease the burden of insurance. 'Not much free-board' was how it was expressed at the docks of St. Augustine when the shrimp boats came to dock. One person less than it took to collapse a balcony at a fraternity party. The last book you can possibly add to a stack before it topples. People have always asked me about words, especially back before I was a hermit and was actually around people, now, not so much; but someone asked me recently about that word and I told them it was the load line for a boat. Samuel Plimsoll, and the Plimsoll Act of 1876. Her I-phone seemed to agree with that and she wondered how I could possibly have known. I don't know. The real question is how I could possibly remember. I don't even have a decent memory. I have to call friends to figure out when something happened, or what it was that happened. I trust Joel's opinion, though he is a cynic (he says a realist), I trust Glenn's memory of a very bad meal, and Linda, who I trust most of all, because women have always been such an important part of my life. If you're a Navy Brat, and your Dad is on sea duty (two out of four years) you will be left with your mother and sister for six months at a time. No fishing with Dad, but a more solitary thing, sitting on an up-turned bucket fishing for catfish in a farm pond. I do remember the diet, fried fish and hush-puppies, once a week, greens and fried salt-pork, once a week, stewed cabbage with pork necks bones, fried chicken, a world-class pot roast, maybe a casserole if Dad was at sea, because he hated them. I thought tuna-noodle casserole was the greatest thing in the world; there are still a couple of casseroles I make mid-winter, to eat for several meals, when I'm sure no one will see me. That green bean, cream of chicken, canned onion ring thing. I love it. And the caramelized onion, ground beef, noodle, cheese and tomato thing, whatever you call it, works very well to feed college students. I've discovered that if you have warm Parker House rolls and butter, you can actually mesmerize people and make them do things they might ordinarily not do. Everyone has their price, hot baked yeast or sputtering animal fat; for several months I ate fried bread for breakfast, with various toppings; a remote location, Mexican Hat, Utah, it would be over a 100 degrees by ten in the morning, but it was, actually, just another day. Another lovely rain starts before dawn, delaying dawn, and cooling off this corner of the world. I use a old flannel sheet as a summer blanket, and I had to pull it up to my waist as my feet and legs were just a touch chilly. When it gets light enough to make coffee, I pull on the old stained Dockers I wear around the house, and a clean but stained sleeveless tee-shirt. The narrower belt I used for years with non-jeans had rotted, so I hold the pants up with a piece of rope; I tie it in a square knot and the two ends have frayed into what I think of as hobo pom-poms; I hadn't brushed my hair, I hadn't brushed my teeth, I didn't have shoes on and my feet were quite dirty, when the Sheriff's Deputy arrived. I had to chuckle when I let him in the door, asked him if he wanted a cup of coffee, and he wondered what was so funny. He sat in the chair at the end of the table, the seat everyone always sits in (an interesting subject, which chair and why) and looked around while I made his cup. Inane exchange of conversation. Then I just told him outright that I didn't cultivate illegal plants, and I actually wished they'd come and search my property because I was tired of the interruptions, and the stupid stories about stolen vehicles and poached deer. He allowed they thought I was a 'producer' and I assured him I produced nothing but paragraphs. He nosed around in the books for a while, and asked me about a couple of things, I gave him an extra copy of The Crying Of Lot 49, and told him to call, before he came again, so that I could put away the dirty books. After he'd gone, I realized I'd been profiled, these crazy Achilles (my spell-check turns assholes into Achilles) think they know something about me. I'd like to use that somehow, to make them look silly, because it is so silly, but it's not worth the bother. My whole thought-train is completely interrupted, which might be a good thing, decent copy, but I was thinking, in that dawn rain, about cleansing, how everything was clean, the dust was settled; about rotting leaves and worm casings, and how the dust, mixed with rain made a matrix in which, if you were fast enough, you could grow something. Then the cop shows up, and you're trying to explain why you're so interested in frogs. I'm sorry, officer, I was just having sex with my fox AND YOU INTERRUPTED ME. Still, I think, I behaved remarkably well, I knew instinctively not to hurl any Islamic slurs, about camel dung and his mother, though the Islamic slurs are very good, in a literary way, because everyone is so quick to take offense. It's a perfect playing field. A hectare is a little less than two-and-a-half acres, 2.47, and that's one of those things I remember, like how far away is a strike of lightening. Five-Mississippi is a mile. Maybe we should get a drink.